Guardians of Yesterday
by TwisterJester
Summary: Syd and Nigel go on an adventure to Africa that goes back to the origin of the species - and beyond.
1. Countdown

Tucking a pencil into the dark knot of hair at the nape of her neck, Sydney Fox sighed, stretching to relieve the kinks from sitting too long at a desk

Tucking a pencil into the dark knot of hair at the nape of her neck, Sydney Fox sighed, stretching to relieve the kinks from sitting too long at a desk. She was a teacher, yes, and she wouldn't trade the job for anything; but she was also a woman of action, and the relative inactivity of the past few weeks was beginning to wear on her nerves. She needed a quest, a diversion, something to get her mind off of the mundane. 

She glanced again at her assistant, the young Englishman who had become her sidekick and best friend. He seemed perfectly content to confine himself to academia. Here in the halls of Trinity University he could easily pass for an American student, except for the giveaway accent. He looked much younger than he was, and to watch his sheepish grin you'd never guess he was fluent in five languages and a virtual fount of obscure facts. When it came to antiquities, it was an understatement to say that Nigel Bailey was an expert. 

The jangle of the phone broke her reverie and she swooped up the receiver, silently praying for some reprieve. 

Please let someone give me a lead on a missing relic, an artifact from a long-departed civilization, she thought. Hell, at this point send me one of Heyerdal's ancient alien connections! 

The voice at the other end of the line was grim, the masculine anguish coming clearly over the phone despite the distance. "Sydney, it's Mike Van Loo. We... I need your help. Carol's gone." 

Not the diversion I had in mind. Sydney knew Carol Van Loo. The woman was a world-class beauty and she unfortunately knew it. Carol was a woman who thought nothing of juggling four or five lovers simultaneously, all the while posing as a happily married woman. If she was gone, it was probably another fling. "Gone?" Sydney asked simply, not willing to give anything away. 

"She's dead, Syd. We were working on a dig in Ethiopia, found the most incredibly beautiful artifacts, and our workers started dropping like flies. They'd become deathly ill, and from their symptoms we thought it might be the bubonic plague. It was truly awful. I wanted to shut down the dig until the epidemic passed, but Carol refused. We were working on a limited permit. We both knew if we stopped, even for a day, our permit could be revoked. Then she uncovered the globe and we knew... It wasn't the plague that was killing everyone, it was the Angel Sword." 

Sydney sucked in her breath. "Damn! That was supposed to be the most cursed object in prehistory!" 

Weariness tore at Mike's voice. "You might say that. When she found it, Carol was overjoyed, so much so that she hugged the thing to her chest. She died within minutes. The sword was removed from the site and transported to a quarantine area for analysis. We expected it to read radioactive. It wasn't. Sydney, there was nothing - nothing about it that could have caused this level of damage. But the scientists in the decon area are all dead, despite all the protective gear and all their precautions. We have to find the Pillars of Eden and send it home." 

They talked back and forth for a few more minutes, and Sydney replaced the phone, tapping her fingers on the desktop. "Nigel," she announced at length, "Pack your suitcase. We're going on the mother of all relic hunts. We've got to find the Garden of Eden."

The plane touched down on a dirt runway so narrow Nigel swore he could hear the wings brush against the leaves surrounding them. He swallowed, fully cognizant of the risks in this particular job. Back on U.S. soil, he'd given Sydney his perfunctory speech about not going. It was a suicide romp, he'd declared with all the sensibility he could muster. 

And just as predictably, Sydney had overruled his objections, though this time she'd thrown in a twist he hadn't expected. 

She'd told him she was going alone. 

In their two years together, that had never been a consideration, not unless she'd assigned him to something at least equally dangerous. Now, as they landed in Ethiopia, he was wondering if it was too late to plead insanity. He'd declared that he wasn't going to let her go alone, that she couldn't leave him behind. But here they were in a country where any white man was an automatic enemy, and a woman - even Sydney - could be killed for any infraction, real or perceived. 

They stepped off the twin-engine Cessna into more oppressive heat. The small plane had theoretically been air-conditioned. It was a theory that wasn't backed up by reality. A jeep waited for them, with Mike Van Loo gesturing toward his friends. The tall blond man managed to befriend everyone he met, even in this region where color could get him killed. It wasn't a very reassuring thought, that their lives could well hang on the charms of this Nordic giant. 

"The locals have gotten nervous. Can't say as I blame them. We've had a few more workers die and at least a dozen more are hanging by a thread. We have to get this thing back where it belongs. I have all the photographic evidence I need to recreate it for the museum. We measured every detail." The big anthropologist's contrabassoon boomed out over the creaks, groans, and rumble of the four wheeler as they bounced over deep ruts.

Nigel glanced nervously at the start contrasts in their surroundings. They were following a narrow stream bed, the six-ply tires navigating over and round sand, mud, and rock. Only a thin trickle of water glistened in the runnel. During the monsoon season, though, the trickle would swell into a broad lake that spread in a wide swath over the surrounding grasslands. Yet it wasn't their surroundings that unnerved Nigel, nor even the glimpse of a lioness lounging freely only a few yards away. It was the fact that Van Loo seemed indifferent to the fact that his wife had died before his eyes mere days earlier.

"Mike, you've told us how you found the sword, but you still haven't told us how we're supposed to find Eden. You said over the phone that you discovered a map?" Sydney's brusque professionalism suggested that she, too, found Mike Van Loo's cavalier demeanor less than desirable.

__

Bravo, Syd, thought the little Englishman. 

Sydney continued, "The sword, if it's authentic, is thousands, maybe millions of years old. Nothing contemporary with it could possibly survive, not unless it's carved in stone. What makes you trust anything you found? It's probably a diversionary tactic."

The wind picked up, whisking dust and grit into their faces, and all three of them squinted at the sudden onslaught. 

A chuckle from Mike sent an involuntary chill up Nigel's spine.

"But that's the beauty of it, Sydney. The map _is_ written in stone. The crystal ball embedded in the hilt is actually a flawless crystal globe. Sydney, it's etched with microscopic precision. Of course we haven't yet been able to decipher most of the hieroglyphs that identify the various population centers. But the symbol for Eden is unmistakable. The pictograph for God is almost identical to the ancient Hebrew character for Jehovah."

The archaeological dig was marked by bodies moving slowly over the dusty landscape and a scattered dozen or so tents. No buildings broke the barren horizon. Here, the only greenery clung to the line of the stream, a trickle of precious moisture they'd left behind some half an hour earlier. 

Native workers moved listlessly in the fading sun, their bodies glistening with sweat. There was little reaction as the four-wheeler rumbled into camp. Apparently it was a common enough sight that even new faces meant nothing special. There weren't many workers left. From what Mike said, more than three-quarters of his crew had deserted him after the discovery of the sword. Not surprising, all things considered. 

"Where is the sword now?" Sydney asked absently as her dark eyes scanned the site. 

"In my tent. Nobody will have bothered it," he assured her hastily. "They're afraid of it. It's gorgeous, though, Sydney. It's everything legends called it, and more." 

The female relic hunter drew herself up at that statement, her eyebrow jumping in skepticism. "The legends say the sword was pure gold. If that's true, it's a safe bet that greed will overcome fear. That's all the more so for the workers who haven't already been frightened away." 

She cast a quick glance back at her assistant. Nigel had lapsed into a pensive silence quite a while back. He wasn't exactly the strong silent type, and his reticence piqued her curiosity. They had worked together for a little over two years now, developing a sort of psychological rhythm. This was a sudden counterpoint in Nigel's normal beat, enough so to let her know something was churning in his brain. That thought brought a hint of a smile to her lips. 

"Oh, don't worry," Mike added smoothly. "If superstition doesn't dissuade them, and the law doesn't do it, I have other means of convincing them it's not worth their lives and the lives of their families." 

Sydney said nothing, filing away that uncomfortable bit of trivia in her mind. Like Nigel, she knew something was amiss with Mike Van Loo. His callous response to Carol's death was only a part of Sydney's concern. She didn't frighten easily, but Mike Van Loo scared her. The big man's eye devoured her when he looked at her. Whether it was sexual or something else, it sent a shiver up her spine each time it happened. This latest remark simply added another piece to the dark puzzle she was putting together. 

"Aren't you afraid of the sword?" Nigel asked quietly. 

Van Loo grinned. "Not at all. The legend says the sword won't hurt the man who returns it. It hasn't hurt me yet. I guess that's a sure sign that I'll be the first man to step foot in the Garden of Eden since the time of Adam and Eve." 

"Yeah, maybe," mused Sydney. Her mind was beginning to fill in a few more blanks, and the picture taking shape wasn't a pretty one at all.


	2. Liaison

Tucking a pencil into the dark knot of hair at the nape of her neck, Sydney Fox sighed, stretching to relieve the kinks from sitting too long at a desk

Night fell quickly in the land near the equator. It was ironic that 25% of Ethiopia was forest, given the dearth of vegetation around them. They were roughly seventy miles from the straits that linked the Red Sea with the Gulf of Aden. 

In this ancient land, legend and history danced together, a waltz of truth and half-truth and unknown that challenged any scientist. Sorting out the fact from fiction was compounded by religious fervor. The city of Aksum, at the northern tip of the country, claimed to house the long-missing Ark of the Covenant. Religious overflow seeped through most of the country, coloring most of everyday life. Most scientists agreed with the Judeo-Christian claims that life - or at least the ancestry of modern man - originated in the region. 

Even more complex were the literal and historic references built into the places and names in northern Africa. Even the name of the Gulf of Aden hinted at the Biblical creation site. 

Work ceased promptly at sundown. Mike Van Loo ruled his workers with an iron hand; but superstition was more powerful, acting like a lock to insure that every man was inside a tent before the darkness was complete. 

Sydney was assigned to sleep inside Mike's jeep, with Nigel unhappily sharing a tent with their dubious host. There was nothing to fear, after all, Syd reminded her partner. They were trying to help return the sword home. Nigel's enthusiasm was notably absent at her rejoinder. 

"It's not the sword I'm worried about, though I'm worried about that. Aren't you the least bit worried about Mike Van Loo?" he asked. They were standing alone in the darkness, whispering urgently, after Nigel tiptoed out to express his concerns about the sleeping arrangements. 

"Well what am I supposed to do? You can't sleep here. There isn't enough room!" 

"Then I'll sleep in the front seat. I won't stay with him, Sydney. I can't. There's something fundamentally wrong about him, something sinister. He scares the hell out of me."

His heart was threatening to beat a hole in his chest. How could he explain to Sydney what he'd experienced in Van Loo's tent? There was no logical explanation, no scientific theory to clarify it, no physical evidence of the metaphysical horror. 

Nigel Bailey had lived through some terrifying experiences in his adventures with Sydney Fox. He considered her to be more than his boss. She was mentor and friend, and occasional protector. Her official teaching position was for ancient studies, but she also enlightened students in the martial arts. She was at least equally qualified in that department as for the academic venue. 

More than once, though, they'd encountered opposition which wasn't entirely physical in its nature. This was one of those times. Shuddering at the memory, he repeated, "You don't know what it's like, Syd. I can't stay there. I won't." 

Her silhouette rose from the back seat and she whispered back, "What happened?" 

"I don't know what to tell you. I'm not sure I can put it into words." 

"Try." 

"He's evil, corrupted." 

Sydney tilted her head to one side as Nigel climbed into the passenger seat. "You mean he sold out? To whom?" 

Nigel sighed, and his speech slipped back into the Liverpool accent which only showed up in times of extreme stress. "No, I mean evil as in, evil incarnate. It's almost like he's some sort of demon, Sydney. I didn't see anything, didn't hear anything, but I could feel a sort of presence when he came in. I think maybe he's possessed." 

He'd never have offered such a bizarre explanation to anyone else, but he simply didn't know how else to express himself. 

"Maybe he is." 

Sydney's answer might have been the only thing that surprised him more than the fact that the Angel Sword had been tucked beneath his cot.

They woke just as the first slice of sunlight escaped the horizon, its brilliance pouring across the arid fields. If Van Loo noticed that his tent-mate had departed in the middle of the night, he didn't let on. 

The trio of experts huddled around the mystical sword. "Have you touched it?" she asked both Nigel and Van Loo. She noticed that their odd host carried the ancient weapon wrapped tightly in a homespun blanket. He's afraid of it, no matter what he says, she decided. 

Maybe with good reason. 

No one discussed how the sword had been transported to the lab that tested it, or how it was returned. Something told Sydney that she didn't want to know. 

"Bare handed? No. It's a remarkable piece of ancient history. You know the cardinal rules of archaeology. For any truly valuable object you use gloves to avoid contaminating the piece." 

Contaminating the object was a legitimate concern, particularly with anything of this presumed age. Then again... "Did carbon testing give you a date?" she asked absently as she studied the artistry. 

"Carbon dating was imprecise," Van Loo replied, and for the first time since their arrival, his voice was genuinely reverent. "Aside from the fact that it's forged of metal and stone, carbon dating has other limits. Tests showed that it is truly ancient, on the magnitude of millions of years, perhaps more. As further proof of its age, look at the map etched into the crystal." 

Nigel swore under his breath. "That's impossible. It's got to be a fake. Man didn't exist that long ago, certainly not civilized man." 

"Maybe not, but if the name, the Angel Sword, is a reflection of reality, then we can safely say that angels existed that long ago. There is one continent, its outlines unmistakable. The very fact that such an ancient artifact portrays the world as a globe is telling. _One_ continent." 

"Pangea," breathed Sydney in awe. "This has to be a hoax. There's no way. The super continent theory didn't exist more than maybe twenty or thirty years ago, at most fifty or sixty." 

"It's genuine, without a doubt. But it's not gold, like the legends said. Truth is, we don't know what it is." 

Nigel interjected, "Maybe some kind of alloy. The color certainly looks like pure gold." The Englishman eased his hands beneath the blanket and lifted the sword - with difficulty. "The weight is right for it to be gold. It's not aluminum, that's for sure. And I'm betting that the gems embedded in the hilt are the real McCoy. Flawless, of course." 

It was certainly was an impressive-looking artifact. The hilt formed a braid of vines, its tinted green-gold twists studded with brilliant gemstones. The vines swirled up to cage the free-turning crystal globe, the setting designed so that the globe both acted as divider between hilt and blade and so that every detail of the crystal map could be viewed easily. One breath was enough to set the fist-sized globe turning on its axis. 

Sydney resisted the urge to reach out and grasp its hilt. It called to her like a siren song, the never-ending need for her to make a tangible connection with ancient history. This was more, though. There was a power contained in it, magnetic, frightening, awe-inspiring. She swore if she looked at it in the dark, it would glow from within. Further enhancing its stunning surface, delicate runes covered the surface of the blade. 

Apparently Nigel noticed the writing at the same time. His finger hovered just above the words as he struggled with the translation. "It's a variation of ancient Hebrew, I think. If I'm right, then this says..." He raised hazel eyes to meet Sydney's. "In the beginning was God."

Examining the sword was one thing. Using it to plan a course of action was another altogether. 

Nigel and Sydney understood the enormity of their challenge. If in fact the globe represented Pangea, and it was accurate for its time, it made the weapon over 180 million years old. There were challenges involved in finding objects mere hundreds of years old. Digs in the Middle East sometimes uncovered worlds thousands of years old. The occasional fossil showed up from the Mesozoic era, the last estimated date when the super continent was a reality. 

And yet... Who was to say, if the sword was indeed genuine, how much older it was? It might as well have provided them with a map of Mars. There was not one square inch of the planet unchanged in that amount of time. 

Nigel sighed, rubbing his eyes. He'd been studying the sword for hours, scribbling notes, taking photos, speculating, translating, consulting. He eyed Sydney, noting the fact that she flinched away from Mike Van Loo. That small detail disturbed Nigel more than it frightened him. It wasn't like his boss couldn't take care of herself, but there were moments when he found himself wanting to protect her, as illogical as it was. 

He reached for her, pulling her next to him. "Here's where the character states Eden resides. As nearly as I can tell, that's in this general region, but there are no landmarks we can use for reference, other than the presumed alignment of the continents." He was relieved to see that Van Loo backed off at the subtle hint, though the older man's blue eyes had narrowed to slits. 

The blond giant moved away, leaving the partners to themselves. 

Sydney's shoulders slumped in relief. "Thanks, Nigel," she said. "He gives me the creeps, too, if it makes you feel any better." 

"It doesn't, though it raises another question. Why does he want entry into Eden?" 

"What do you mean?" 

Nigel tapped a finger on the rough-hewn table. "Sydney, you know what I said about him being evil incarnate? You didn't argue with me. What if he truly is evil? If he's possessed? What if he doesn't want to find Eden to return the sword? Maybe he has another reason, a darker one." 

Sydney swallowed. "If I remember my Sunday School lessons, the devil started out as an angel, until he was cast out of heaven when he tried to overthrow God. Maybe he's decided to give it another go."


	3. A Wheel and a Way

Tucking a pencil into the dark knot of hair at the nape of her neck, Sydney Fox sighed, stretching to relieve the kinks from sitting too long at a desk

The following day, they found the key. 

Two workers literally stumbled over the stone monolith where it lay mostly buried in the packed soil. Everyone assumed it was just another wall, at first, and subsequently ignored it until Sydney spied the hieroglypic symbols that marched over its surface. 

Shouting for Nigel to join her, they scrambled into the pit, excitement building with each hurried step. Nigel was cautious now, not so ready to share his translations with their host. Until they were certain of Van Loo's agenda, he and Sydney would keep anything critical to themselves. 

And when they discovered the still-sealed compartment, barely perceptible on the smooth marble wall, their exchanged glance was all they needed to communicate the need to keep it to themselves. 

Nigel reluctantly agreed to return to Van Loo's tent that evening, though he couldn't entirely hide his aversion to the idea. He got the sense that he was some sort of snack food for the big man. But the Angel Sword was in Van Loo's tent. 

Listening for the other man's snores, Nigel collected the blade and crept into the night, making a rendezvous with Sydney, sidling up alongside her. She was already studying the small anomaly that alerted them of a hiding place. She shook her head in fear, and for a moment Nigel thought he'd been followed. It took a few moments for him to realize that he had automatically collected the sword without any protection. 

He sucked in a breath, understanding that he was almost certainly doomed to die. He closed his eyes, appreciating the absurdity of the thought. Poised on the cusp of the most important archaeological discovery of all time, he was going to die before anyone knew. He was probably going to die long before Sydney reached Eden. 

There was no doubt in his mind that his friend would accomplish her goal. Sydney always, always achieved what she set out to do. 

He glanced around and found a ragged shirt, probably the property of one of the departed workers. Wrapping it around the precious relic, he wordlessly handed the bundle to Sydney. She understood the implication and was already grieving for him. 

Figuring he was already dying, he gently pushed her aside so that he could open the cache. His eyes skimmed over the deeply etched pictures, his mind translating quickly and efficiently. Finally he found the appropriate pattern and depressed a series of seven spots. It never occurred to them that opening the small compartment might open a whole different sort of Pandora's box. 

Brilliant light sprang up from behind the small stone door, a light that spread and speared through the darkness. First bright white, then flashing brilliant color, the normal light changed, forming concentric, glowing rings around them, a hovering rainbow of illumination that surrounded them and swallowed them up. 

They could see Van Loo's angry figure hurtling toward them, but the advancing enemy was stopped cold at the outer layer of light. 

The circle continued to change; now it was flames, cool fire that did no harm, a blaze that licked at flesh and clothing without igniting them. And a moment later, the flickering light resolved itself further into beings. Huge beings, powerful men in loose clothing who formed a protective circle around Sydney and Nigel. Van Loo let out an enraged bellow, but Sydney realized that her feet were no longer on the ground. In fact, she could no longer see the ground at all! Nigel gasped, because as they rose, they could see their guardians' magnificent wings moving in precise time. 

A stone disk rose to meet their feet, providing the two human passengers the emotional security of something to stand on. "The wheel within a wheel," whispered Nigel in awed reverence. 

Equally stunned, Sydney nodded. "He shall give his angels charge over thee," she quoted back, too shaken to care if she was making sense or not. 

Moments later, they were lowered to the ground and the guard turned to face inward. The angels' wings disappeared into the folds of their clothing. Sydney held out the sword to the largest of the messengers. She noticed that blisters were already forming on her companion's face, and she felt tears well up in her eyes. Please, God, let us return this in time, she prayed silently. 

Instead of accepting the proffered weapon, the archangel smiled sadly and shook his head. The transfigured creature picked up Nigel like he was an infant and carried him into a thick copse of dark trees. Sydney ran after, breathlessly struggling to keep up with a stride that seemed interminably slow for the regal being.

The oppressive heat didn't dissipate when the sun went down, and the combination of heat and worry and the added burden of the heavy sword challenged Sydney's stamina. Determination drove her onward despite her body's protests. "Nigel!" she yelled. 

"Bring him back!" she ordered, forcing authority into her voice, knowing that in this, she was hopelessly outclassed. 

The angel's wings unfolded and within seconds he was airbound, carrying her companion with him. 

Sydney scrambled along over the ground, falling more than once, until she could no longer see the subject of her pursuit. Frustration and grief overwhelmed her and she dropped to her knees. It was the first time she realized that her body was bruised and battered from the blind dash through the woods. 

Angrily, she dashed tears from her cheeks and pushed herself back up, forcing herself to follow in the direction she'd seen her partner disappear. She owed him that. She didn't want to tell Nigel's brother, the only surviving family member, that she'd abandoned the search for Nigel because it was too hard. 

She brushed recalcitrant strands of hair from her eyes, and realized that blisters had now formed on her forehead. A sad smile spread over her face, a quiet resignation. 

So she would die, too. 

It was almost a moment of redemption, knowing that she would share the fate of her young assistant. 

But silent, strong arms swept her up where her own strength failed, and she caught a glimpse of powerful wings beating against the moonlight as they sailed above the treetops. "Nigel...?" she asked softly. 

A reply resonated through her, words spoken without breath, a voice that rendered physical law obsolete. "Your friend's body has died." The compassion embraced her as she began to weep against the perfect strength. "It was unavoidable." 

"No, it wasn't," she grieved. "I could have left him home. I should never have brought him along." She lifted her face to view the being who carried her so effortlessly. 

The angel's face, though devoid of beard and utterly ageless, was unmistakably masculine. Every inch of his form was luminescent. It wasn't a reflection of moonlight, it was a glow that came from the unearthly creature. And his eyes glowed most of all. They were eerie and comforting, all at once, and drew her like a magnet. His eyes were midnight blue, almost violet in their depths. 

"Nigel chose to come. You need no absolution for the choices made by another." 

She sniffed, "But he came because of me." 

"He came because it was his destiny, just as it is yours. His death is only sad because you don't understand it. Death is a necessary part of life. Besides, no living man or woman can enter Eden." The angel's voice was a musical baritone, almost operatic in the richness of tones that sounded both on the air and in Sydney's ears and heart. She could literally feel the words running through her, their meaning melding into every cell.

Wings carried them over the treetops, creating a breeze that whispered against Sydney's skin. She felt herself growing progressively weaker, and she unconsciously leaned into the strength of her remarkable protector. Blisters now covered her from head to toe, but the heavenly being still gently declined her requests to take the sword from her, even when pain and fever seized her and she began to beg for him to end her life with the weapon. 

The moon gilded every leaf, turning their surroundings magical. Were it not for the convulsions that wracked her body, Sydney might have wondered if she had found heaven. Even the air now seemed cooler with each gasp of breath that fought through her lungs and throat. In fact, she began to shiver as the night grew chilly. 

Was it her imagination, or had the moon become brighter? Or maybe it was the glow that emanated from the messenger who cradled her in infallible arms. 

No... 

Sydney realized they had angled downward, back to earth. Weak or not, her innate curiosity demanded that she turn her head. 

Spread below them, bathed in the light of an untimely dawn, Sydney could see a perfect wilderness, a paradise of ancient trees and heavy flowers too lush to be bereft of water, even here in the midst of desert. A crystal stream meandered through a pale green meadow. Here and there, houses were built to inhuman specifications, stone cut into sculptural masterpieces that defied all man's understanding about engineering and yet fit unobtrusively against the ageless, flawless landscape. 

Sydney's parched lips quirked into a halfhearted smile. "Are we there yet?" she wheezed, wondering if her mother could see her now. If there was a heaven, surely her sweet mom was there. 

"No child, though we are close." 

Something about the angel's enigmatic voice captured Sydney's attention enough that she looked up. Her protector's handsome face was wreathed in smiles. He was homesick, she realized with a start.


	4. Confrontation

Tucking a pencil into the dark knot of hair at the nape of her neck, Sydney Fox sighed, stretching to relieve the kinks from sitting too long at a desk

Words were superfluous as the angel strode toward the gates. Swinging silently open on invisible hinges, the emerald doors divided to permit access. Within the space of a heartbeat, the angel wings were folded beneath his clothing again and he walked through the gates of Eden. Nigel's lifeless body was draped over strong arms, and the angel grieved, knowing he had failed. 

Failure would not garner him a punishment _per se_, but throughout eternity he would dwell on the mistake he'd made. 

There was no gatekeeper; none was needed. The angels came and went at will and without restriction of any kind. Imbued with quasi intelligence, the door stymied any and all humans from entering alone. 

No living man or woman might pass through the gate, but a lifeless man could.

The garden was a center of activity as all life within prepared for the return of the sword. 

Nigel's still form was gently laid on a bier covered with orchids, where the young Englishman was granted a reverent nod from ordered legions of angels who stood in concentric circles around him. His own guardian angel, the creature who had carried his human cargo into Eden, stood by his charge, tears glistening in his eyes. 

In the middle of the angel host, an aisle formed, and a second guardian marched forward, depositing Sydney's corpse next to that of her assistant. Sydney's angelic protector clapped a hand on his friend's shoulder. "We've been working together for a while now, Aaron. I realize you've only been around for a few centuries. You didn't fail, my friend. These two were meant to return the blade, and this was truly the only way it could be done. You know well that the word of the Almighty must be kept, without exception." 

Aaron smiled sadly. "You're right, of course. It is too bad that these too had to be lost in the process, Daniel, and I don't see how they can ever hope to fight evil like this." 

"They're not truly lost, you know. God works in mysterious ways, and He informed me that neither you nor I have been reassigned yet. He said we aren't going to be, either, not for several years." Daniel stopped, his expression hardening. "They have a job to do. The gates have been breached again, after all these eons. If anything, our enemy's arrogance has grown even more." The guardian angel turned to face Mike Van Loo, who was walking through the ranks. The angels backed away in disgust, opening an uneven path. 

Van Loo's body was decaying before their eyes. "Hello, brother," sneered Van Loo to Daniel. "It's been too long, and that's just wrong." 

Daniel lifted his chin. "You're too late, Beelzebub." 

Van Loo's eyes glowed crimson, his putrid face contorting into a dark perversion of a smile. "I don't think so. I've claimed them both, Daniel. You can't save them when they're dead and I've got them." 

Daniel arched an eyebrow and brushed a strand of Sydney's hair from her face. The glow from the angel exploded outward into a brilliant halo that enveloped the entire clearing, and in that instant, Sydney's eyes opened. The blisters and pustules on her flesh disappeared, discoloration fading, and her gasping, agonized breath slowly returned to normal. 

Aaron's awe was genuine. "I understand," he said simply. 

Daniel pulled the sword free of its ragged sheath and held out the hilt to the bewildered human woman. "It is your fight this time. It is your destiny." 

Van Loo's face was deteriorating more by the moment. There was a glow about him now, too, but it was the lurid, dirty glow of a fire that had died to an ember. The scent of smoke and burned flesh clung to the apparition. "It's _her _fight? Really, Daniel, you have to be kidding. This is a human woman, not an angel." 

Daniel shrugged, but his smile never faded. "This is no ordinary woman, and that's no ordinary sword." 

Van Loo hissed, "Well, then, Sydney, here are the stakes. You win, I get kicked out of Eden again. You lose and I get to keep your friend Nigel here in torment with me."

The hilt of the sword was cool and heavy in her hand. At the edge of her consciousness, Sydney knew that merely holding the weapon was tantamount to suicide, but she also knew instinctively that it was the only way to defeat the opponent who circled her like a nervous cat. She was sorely tempted to launch an all-out assault on him, employing the blade and her own martial arts training. 

In this case, it seemed unlikely that a karate kick would do the job, so she waited. 

Van Loo growled, "You can't kill me, you know. I'm immortal. That's why they chose you to do their dirty work. You're a woman; this is Eden. They always blame the woman for failure. It's inevitable. Just ask Eve." 

"Something tells me you're lying," she countered. "I think it's poetic justice. You got a woman kicked out of Eden. It's only right that a woman kicks you out a few millennia later. Just call me fashionably late." 

He snarled and extended a hand. From his fingertip, a dirty nail telescoped outward and grew into a crooked, grime- and gore-encrusted rapier. He swung wildly and just missed as Sydney lunged to one side, tucking and rolling and rising smoothly to her feet in a single movement. Van Loo shouted in frustration and his sword screamed. It was the first moment that Sydney realized that human bones formed his grisly foil. She recoiled automatically and he lunged again. 

She barely evaded his attack while launching a counter-strike of her own. The gold Angel Sword sliced through air, though, as Van Loo leapt nimbly over her assault. 

Having a better assessment of her opponent now, she feinted left, then thrust straight. Van Loo parried instantly but the tip of her blade connected, slicing through his shoulder. He roared in pain as vile, maggot-infested blood bubbled from the wound. 

"Not as omnipotent as you thought, are you?" she taunted. "I think it's you who can't win." 

He snarled and rushed at her, his arm barely a shadow in the rapidity of its motion. It didn't take long for her to become exhausted under the onslaught. 

Her breath came in labored gasps and sweat rolled from her skin as she continued to evade, slice, parry and thrust, fencing against an invincible enemy. He was right about one thing, she suspected. He might not be omnipotent, but he probably couldn't be killed. You couldn't kill something that wasn't alive. 

"You don't have to do this, Sydney," Van Loo challenged, his voice shifting to become smooth and persuasive. "They expect you to fail. They'll just throw you out again even if you win, you know. Join me, help me win, and you can rule over Eden. I can give you paradise." 

Sydney rolled her eyes, muttering, "Didn't I date you once? I know I've heard that before. I didn't believe it then and I don't believe it now." She was too focused on the fight to care what he was saying, which worked in her favor. His hypnotic words effectively fell on deaf ears. 

"Let's pool our resources, then," Van Loo snapped, waving his hand. 

The ground sank beneath her and she was trapped in a pool of blood. It sucked her downward like quicksand, trapping her, leaving her unable to escape or even move. 

Van Loo stood over her, laughing, as she was swallowed up.

Aaron fidgeted, determined to stand apart from the battle, but the guardian in him cried out at the injustice he was witnessing. Daniel inclined his head to his fellow angel. "We can't help her," the older angel said simply, yet there was an implication of something more in his voice. 

Nigel's guardian glanced at the manifestation of his failure. The young Briton was still stretched in final repose on a bed of flowers, the peace on Nigel's discolored features no reflection of the state of his soul. Van Loo's claim of torment was no idle boast. 

Sydney couldn't see the anticipation in the angels' eyes. They each knew that this human woman was their champion, chosen by the Almighty to dispatch the enemy. Even her apparent loss didn't dim their enthusiasm overall. The heavenly host was cheering wildly even while their would-be protector was being overwhelmed and defeated. 

All but Aaron. 

Striding forward, he was dismayed when Daniel's hand clapped over his shoulder, effectively halting him in his tracks. "No!" The senior guardian commanded. 

Unable to dismiss the incontestable order, Aaron stepped back, staring miserably at Nigel's mutilated flesh. Nigel - his _assignment_... How understated a way to describe a human soul given over to his charge! Frustration overtook the angel and he unfurled his wings, spiraling up above the ongoing fight. Every fiber of his being demanded that he help, yet to do so would be to defy the ruler of the universe! 

Aaron stomped through the clouds and they discharged electricity, lightning that crackled through the heavens and scorched the earth. Eden's perfection healed itself quickly, the grass and the skies returning to their placid norm. 

Finally, as Sydney stepped into the mire that would spell the end to the battle, Aaron settled back to the earth. Only his eyes no longer burned with frustration. Instead, they broadcast sudden determination and the light of a new direction.


	5. Redemption

Tucking a pencil into the dark knot of hair at the nape of her neck, Sydney Fox sighed, stretching to relieve the kinks from sitting too long at a desk

Darkness closed around Sydney and her ears rang with the depletion of oxygen in her bloodstream. She stopped struggling, realizing that it was worse than useless; with each motion, she mired herself deeper into the gore. Only her hand remained out of the pool, raising the sword in a listless request for help. 

She felt her soul being sucked from her body, and she sensed that she was dying. 

And then a strong hand clasped hers, pulling her up from the muck. As her face burst free of the awful trap, she drew a deep, gasping gulp of air that was as much a cry as a breath. She wasn't a woman who wept easily, but tears now flowed from her eyes and huge sobs broke from her throat. She still couldn't see, but the same hand that freed her swept the rapier from her hand, and she heard a roar and the clink of metal blade to bone blade that told her that her rescuer had engaged the enemy. 

Surprise registered in the murmurs that rippled through the angel legions, surprise that swiftly turned to cries of alarm. 

Sydney struggled to unsteady feet and stumbled to the crystal stream, allowing her sense of smell to guide her. She dunked her head into the water, washing away the grime and muck and restoring her sight in the process. 

She whirled when she heard the angels shout in dismay, turning just in time to see Van Loo backhand Nigel, who had been struggling valiantly to fight the Prince of Darkness. The little Englishman had taken a few fencing lessons from Sydney, mostly landing on his backside. He could never hope to prevail against this monster. 

Time seemed to slow as Van Loo yanked the Angel Sword from Nigel's hand and raised the golden blade, poised to plunge it into her friend's heart. Sydney screamed and tore across the yards that separated them, but another, completely unexpected scream blended with hers. 

The Angel Sword threw out flames that enveloped Van Loo, moving from his head downward, swallowing him up. And as the blaze moved over him, he began to disappear, until finally his image faded into oblivion. The sword melted away with him, its crystalline hilt hovering in midair, spinning on an invisible axis for the better part of five minutes before shattering into glitter that was scattered on the breeze. 

Sydney knelt next to her assistant. "Are you all right?" she asked softly. 

"I think so," Nigel replied in a shaky voice. "I saw you being sucked into that awful pit. I was afraid you were going to die. I had to try to save you." 

She chuckled. "You know what? This time, you _did_ save me." 

He raised his eyes to the angel who had returned his life to him. "What just happened? I mean, what made him disappear like that?" 

Daniel answered for his colleague. "The weapon carried death and destruction wherever it went because it was the key that opened the door to hell. It could not take anyone who retained any part of God in them, and living human spirits belong to the Almighty. But for a citizen of Hades, it sent them back to the pits of their own depravity. The sword is gone from earth forever, and Beelzebub is removed from Eden for good." 

Sydney swallowed. "Then in a way, he was right. You DID expect me to fail." 

"Not at all. The moment you pricked him with the blade, he was already defeated. When he clasped the key in his hand, it merely expedited the process. We expected you to win. You didn't disappoint us."

"Mmm.. ouch.." 

Nigel opened his eyes, staring up at the tiled ceiling. He pushed himself up, painfully, gradually aware that he was in a hospital ward. A dark-skinned nurse smiled and stepped to his side, speaking with a distinct accent. 

"Ah, so you are awake? That is good. Your lady friend is awake, too. Are you feeling well enough for company, Mr. Bailey?" 

Nodding, he allowed his gaze to light on his colleague, who was rolling across the floor in a wheelchair, her leg encased in a cast. "Hi," Sydney sighed. "You had me worried there for a while." She reached out and laid a hand on his forearm. "Welcome back." 

"Thanks," he said hoarsely. "I think. Where are we?" 

"We're in the hospital at Addis Ababa. We will be going home as soon as you're well enough. It seems that the dig was shut down. Rather violently, actually." Disappointment painted her voice. "I had hoped it was real. I nearly lost you, and for nothing." 

"What?" he asked, wondering how fuzzy he really was on the details. "What was a fake?" 

"The Angel Sword. When we got here, Van Loo was dead and the sword was pure hoax. It was nothing but an old iron knife, more rust than anything else." Sydney shook her head ruefully. "We should have been more careful. The army moved in and... It wasn't pretty. We were able to hide for a while. Then they found us." Tears welled up in her dark eyes. "I thought at first they'd killed you." 

"Then it was all just a dream," he breathed, laying heavily back against the pillows. 

The nurse returned a moment later, a puzzled look on her face. "You have a delivery," she told Nigel, handing him a small package. "It was postmarked three days ago. You didn't get here until last night." 

Nigel accepted the brown cardboard cube, his fingers tracing unfamiliar handwriting. He tore off the tape and pulled out a small crystal globe, its surface etched in intricate detail, depicting the earth with a single giant continent. A slip of paper fluttered into Sydney's range and she captured it with her fingertips. 

"The world is safe now, thanks to the two of you," she read. "Forever, Aaron." Frowning, she added, "Who's Aaron?" 

A faint luminescence clung to the small sphere, a light that surrounded the ball like a halo. "I think you might call him a Guardian of Yesterday," Nigel answered thoughtfully. "Or perhaps a guardian of all our days." 

=============================

THE END


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